


Snapshot of Our Lives

by daysofinspiration



Series: Sweet As Can Be [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daysofinspiration/pseuds/daysofinspiration
Summary: A birthday party, brightly coloured leggings, and a trio of ninja-cats.





	Snapshot of Our Lives

_“I think this is the part where you say something,” Brittany eventually whispered into Santana’s ear, after nearly a minute of silence. She was standing behind the brunette, arms wrapped around the other girl’s middle, waiting patiently for Santana to respond._

_If possible, Santana’s hands gripped the blonde’s tighter. “Did you… did you just propose to me?”_

_The clear shock in the Latina’s voice made Brittany giggle sheepishly, “Yeah?”_

_“You…”_

_Brittany spun Santana around in her arms so they were facing each other. “I mean, I know we’ve talked about spending the rest of our lives together, but, I thought, it would be nice to make it offi-”_

_“Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. Brittany, yes,” Santana’s eyes were alight with an excitement Brittany had never seen before. They were damp too. “_ Yes _. Brittany Susan Pierce, I’ll marry you.”_

_Happy tears pricked at the blonde’s eyes as well. “Cool. I’ll marry you, too. Just to be fair. Oh.”_

_“What? What’s wrong? That wasn’t a happy ‘oh.’”_

_Brittany frowned, biting her lip and looking down at the makeshift ring on Santana’s finger. Hesitantly she asked, “I’ll… can I still get you a ring, like a proper one?”_

_The shorter woman’s eyes narrowed, “What’s wrong with this one?”_

_“San,” she rolled her eyes. She lifted Santana’s hand and tapped the earring lightly, “That’s an earring. It’s one of my favourites. You can’t wear that our whole… engagement.” The word stuck in her throat, sounding foreign and exciting at the same time._

_Santana snatched her hand back, “But you gave it to me.”_

_“San,” she pleaded._

_“Britt,” Santana replied in the same tone._

_“San, I’ll buy you an actual ring.”_

_“Then I should get to buy you one too. Fair? But for now, so we match, you should wear the other one.” She reached up and unlatched the other hoop from Brittany’s ear and placed it on the blonde’s ring finger._

_Brittany smiled tenderly. After a moment she giggled and then frowned, “Oh.”_

_“You keep making sad ‘oh’ noises, it's worrying me.”_

_“Just… that… that last kiss,” she said, referring to the kiss they’d shared moments before Brittany had popped the question. “That was our last kiss as girlfriends.” The thought made her a little sad._

_“And this,” Santana leaned forward to capture the blonde’s lips with her own, “is our first kiss as… fiancées.”_

_Brittany felt her heart squeeze. After a moment she pulled away and replied breathlessly, “San, we’re engaged.”_

_“Mmm, yep. What?” She asked when Brittany stepped back._

_“We… we’re going to be married.” She tested the word out on her lips. Despite her excitement, it made her feel a little nervous._

_Santana grinned, “No, we’re going to make it official.”_

_Brittany pouted, not sure what the brunette meant. “What?”_

_“B, we got married the first day of kindergarten, when we traded name tags. I drew a checkerboard and a giraffe on yours. You drew hearts all over mine. We pinkie swore we’d be together forever.”_

_“Rainbow hearts,” she reminded. “Puck stole the green. You hit him.”_

_“You bet I did. The man made my woman cry.”_

_“Speaking of, we should get back. They’re probably wondering where we are.”_

_“One more kiss,” the brunette demanded._

_“Pushy pushy,” Brittany scolded, tapping Santana on the nose._

_“Bitch, I said kiss me.”_

_Brittany felt her eyebrows rise, “San, I don’t think you can call me a bitch anymore.”_

_“Course I can, I get to call you whatever I want, now that you’re going to be my w…” her voice faded and she blinked repeatedly._

_“Wife,” the dancer finished for her softly. She watched the emotions play on Santana’s face at hearing the word. Wife. Santana’s eyes reflected excitement, love, and a little bit of fear. Brittany bent down and kissed her again, hoping to get rid of that last one._

_Pinkies clasped together, the stepped back into the house and made their way to the back door._

_Stepping through the doorway and into the back yard, Brittany zeroed in on Blaine where he was talking animatedly with Anthony about football. She stood behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Turning to look at her, he asked, “Yeah, Britt?”_

_The dancer figured it would be easier to just go for it rather than delay the inevitable, “Um… oops.”_

_His brows furrowed, “What?”_

_She smiled nervously, “Uh, remember how you were going to take me shopping at the end of the week for…” she tapped her fingers against his shoulder symbolically._

_A look of understanding appearing on his features he answered, “Yeah?”_

_“I kind of got…” her face broke into a wide grin, “spontaneous.”_

_“You what?” He laughed, leaping to his feet and knocking over the patio chair. Brittany quickly stepped out of the way, only to find herself stopped in her tracks as Blaine’s arms wrapped around her in a bone-crushing hug. “You didn’t. Brittany, you_ didn’t!”

_“I kinda did.”_

_“Oh my God,” his arms around her neck tightened. “Oh my God.”_

_Tina made eye contact with Brittany over Blaine’s shoulders, “Um… what’s going on?”_

_Tina and Mike both looked quietly perplexed. Quinn – and Brittany wasn’t quite sure how this was possible – had a knowing smile on her lips, like she already knew what had happened. Kurt was frowning at her, not liking being out of the loop. Everyone else at the party just looked lost._

_“I kind of… broke a promise to Blaine,” she ventured._

_Kurt stated flatly, “He doesn’t look that upset over it.”_

_“Well, yeah.”_

_“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine said, breaking away from the hug and turning to look at Kurt, “Don’t get upset. We only left you out because we knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret. Not something like this. It's right up your alley and we knew you’d spoil it. Don’t be mad. She promised as soon as everyone knew you’d have free reign to go insane. Please don’t be mad.”_

_“Can’t be mad if I don’t know what’s going on,” Kurt replied lightly._

_“Blaine? You had a promise with Blaine? About what, exactly?” Santana’s giddy smile from before was fading._

_Brittany realised how this would look to the Latina, as if Brittany had had a bet with Blaine about the proposal. She rushed to explain, “Nothing bad, San. He was going to take me shopping on Friday. So that on Saturday I… well I kind of had it planned out. But…” she shrugged._

_The brunette woman’s jaw dropped, “You… no. No way. You had planned to…?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Can I love you more?” She asked, stepping as close to Brittany as possible and entwining their hands once again._

_“Uh, sure?”_

_“What happened, exactly?” Blaine asked, wanting to know why Brittany hadn’t followed the original idea._

_“Um… we were talking. It… it seemed like now was a better time.”_

_“Can somebody please fill the rest of us in on what is going on?_ Please _?” Rachel asked pointedly._

_Brittany giggled happily and wrapped her arms protectively around Santana from behind, mimicking how they’d been standing earlier. Pressing a kiss against Santana’s temple she began, “Well, since both of us and Kurt and Blaine were staying in town for the rest of the week, Blaine and I planned that he was going to take me on Friday to go buy a ring, and then on Saturday I was going to take Santana to the elementary school and find that spot along the wall we met for the first time and then find our old classroom where we actually_ met _met and… ask her to marry me. But I kind of blew it, since I just asked her now.”_

_What followed were the loudest screams Brittany had ever heard. And she worked with small, hyper children on a daily basis._

* * *

 

Brittany stood at the kitchen counter, swaying lightly as she covered the cake with icing and hummed A Whole New World under her breath. A happy smile adorned her features.

That is, until there was a dull thud followed by an “Oh no,” at the kitchen table.

She looked over at her daughter, who was hastily standing up and using napkins to mop up the red juice that had spilt from the pitcher. As if sensing her mother’s eyes, the girl cried, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it!”

“Well, my little Tally Queen, if you didn’t do it, then who did?”

The girl seemed to ponder the correct way to answer this. Eventually, she settled with, “I didn’t do it on purpose?”

“That’s better. Now, here,” Brittany said, tossing a dish towel at the small brunette, “Clean it up.”

“But Mommy,” the girl began, bouncing on her heels.

“Tal, quick, before it stains, please?”

“But I’m the birthday girl-”

“Half the birthday girl,” Brittany corrected.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Talia. Now. Before it stains.”

“Fine,” the little girl grumbled, taking the towel and mopping up the spilt fruit juice. Despite her efforts, however, the table cloth still had a large red stain where the juice pitcher had been knocked over. “Um…”

Brittany turned away from the counter to look at her daughter, “Oh, Tal.” She sighed. The table cloth hadn’t even been spread out over the dining room table yet, the juice had spilt over it where it was still folded on the kitchen table next to the vegetable platter Talia had been arranging. “Okay, give that here. Go run up and get the one in the upstairs closet. Then take it and the cutlery and go set the table. And Tal, don’t spill on this one, okay?”

The little girl bobbed her head and tossed the soiled tablecloth to her mother before scampering off. Brittany sighed and went to soak the fabric in the laundry room sink. Harp, their grey and sassy cat, lifted her head upon Brittany’s entrance. She was sleeping on a stack of towels on top of the dryer.

“Hey, little lady.”

Harp yawned, winked one eye, and then went back to sleep.

“Oh shit, Brittany!” Santana’s voice shouted from down the hall. After a moment there was a more muffled, “Get down, you stupid dog!”

Brittany flitted back into the kitchen, just in time to see Santana shouldering their Rottweiler away from the counter. “Tank, get down you dumbass.”

“Language,” Brittany scolded, amused. “And his name is Tinkerbelle. Not Tank.”

Santana frowned, “We’ve been through this. I never agreed on Tinkerbelle. And you,” she glared down at the dog, who was sitting happily on the kitchen floor, looking up at her and thumping his tail loudly, “Beat it. Go chase Mango or something.” At the mention of the cat’s name, the dog took off, bounding down the hall and clamouring up the stairs.

“What was that about?”

“Britt,” Santana sighed, “You left the cake on the counter. Unattended. When we own a dog the size of a rhino.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, “Oh. Oops. Did he get it?”

“No. But maybe next time don’t leave the birthday cake on the counter when you leave the room?”

Brittany smiled, reaching forward to grab Santana by the belt loops. “C’mere you.” She tugged until the brunette’s hips were nestled snug against her own. “Oh mighty wifey, you saved the day. What would I do without you?”

“Well you wouldn’t be serving birthday cake, that’s for sure,” Santana smirked, reaching up on her toes to kiss the blonde lightly. She pulled back, smiling. “Someone tastes like icing.”

“Oh?” Brittany asked, trying her hardest to look as innocent as possible.

“And how would you have managed something like that?”

“Um…” the dancer thought for a moment, “What’s that really bad excuse? I tripped and the icing broke my fall?”

“You,” Santana breathed, hand tugging on Brittany’s neck to bring her lips down closer, “are such a dork. Kiss me again.”

The blonde smiled, “I can do that.”

Tightening her hold on the Latina’s waist Brittany tipped her head down to press her lips against Santana’s. She felt the other woman smiling into the kiss, biting down on Brittany’s bottom lip and snaking her hands into blonde hair. Brittany sighed happily as her tongue met Santana’s; she could stand here all day.

The sound of a forceful meow next to her head made Brittany smile into the kiss; it made Santana leap a foot in the air. “Jesus fuck,” she cursed, head whipping around to find the source of the noise.

A small orange tabby cat sat on the kitchen counter next to the sink, big yellow eyes watching them curiously. It meowed loudly at them a second time, glaring and wanting attention.

“Get off the counter, Molly.”

“That one’s Mister, San.”

“What? How can you tell?”

“He still has the green paint on his nose, from when Emma was finger painting the other day, remember?”

“I am never going to be able to tell them apart.”“We only got them a week ago San, it’s understandable.”

“We only got them a week ago San, it’s understandable.”

The three nine-month-old kittens had been adopted into the Pierce-Lopez household a week ago, when a friend of theirs had moved away but couldn’t take the cats. A family meeting had been held, and the kittens had been named Molly – the smallest but loudest of the three, Mister – the one who killed a bird on his first day there, and Mango – the one with fewer stripes.

“Why did we agree to take them?” Santana asked, hopping up onto the counter as Brittany resumed icing the cake. “Harp is scared of them. And Tiger clearly hates them,” she said, referring to their old and overweight black cat. The Latina had tried diligently to keep him from following the same path as Brittany’s childhood cats, but had given up by now. The cat loved to eat.

“Tiger hates everyone in this house who isn’t human,” Brittany reasoned, smiling but not looking away from the cake. She needed to finish it soon. “He’s just mad because more and more animals keep taking over. He knows he was here first.”

“My point. Why did we agree to take three more?”

“Why not?”

Brittany tried to hide her smirk when she heard the brunette huff in response. “Because we already have two cats and three dogs?”“Which, by the way,” Brittany said brightly, looking up. “His name is Tinkerbelle. And here,” she said, passing Santana the spatula covered in icing, “finish that.” She picked up the tube of

“Which, by the way,” Brittany said brightly, looking up. “His name is Tinkerbelle. And here,” she said, passing Santana the spatula covered in icing, “finish that.” She picked up the tube of red cake decorator and began her job of attacking the now plainly white iced cake with colour.

“Britt,” San tried to reason, licking the icing from the spatula, “He is a Rottweiler. A _boy_ Rottweiler. His name can’t be Tinkerbelle.”

“We’ve had him for four years San, that’s his name. You need to stop calling him Tank; he’s just going to get confused. He’ll have an identity crisis.”

“He’ll have an identity crisis because he is a rough-and-tumble breed of dog with a wussy name. Talia and I totally agree, Tank fits. He’s a tank.”

“Santana,” Brittany sighed, dotting the i in Lexie’s name, “We have small children. We are not naming our dog after a military vehicle. Violence. No.”“But-”

“But-”

“There are six people in this house, and four of us agreed on Tinkerbelle. You and Tal were outvoted.”

“Where is Talia,” the brunette said, looking around the kitchen, “I thought she was making the veggie platter?”

“Getting a new table cloth.” On the Latina’s raised eyebrow she added, “Don’t ask. Where’s our eldest?”

“Lexie’s upstairs changing, she can’t decide between the pink or the orange leggings Kurt sent her.”

“Why did we let her open those again? Presents are for after dinner, on their birthday, not two days before.”

“Yes, but Lex was the one who answered the door when the currier got here. So she took the box and ran up to her room before either of us got there. And then she and Tal opened their presents two days early.”

“Sneaky child, we have.”

“We? You gave birth to her.”

“But genetically she’s one of _your_ twins, smarty pants. Where’s my Maya Bee and Emmie Bear?”

“In the den, watching _One Hundred and One Dalmatians_.”

Brittany’s face fell slightly. “You should go check Emma’s face before everyone gets here. She was eating Jell-o for lunch. Make sure she didn’t get purple all over her face.”

 Santana slid from the counter and, after placing a quick kiss on Brittany’s temple, left the room to make sure their youngest child wasn’t sporting a Jell-o moustache when their company arrived.

It was the twins’ birthday party. Alexia and Natalia – usually referred to as Lexie and Talia – were turning seven. Today Quinn and her family were coming down to visit, and tomorrow they were having some of the girls’ friends over for what Brittany knew was going to end up being a sugary and hyper party from hell.

Lexie was the eldest of Brittany and Santana’s four daughters. Quick witted and light on her feet, Lexie had already discovered her passion for music, though not en route of her mothers’. Lexie liked to _make_ music, not sing or dance to it, though impromptu singing and dancing sessions happened in their household often enough. The brunette excelled at her piano lessons, and was currently trying to convince her parents to let her take up the trumpet. Her favourite animals were elephants; she wanted to sound like one.

Though identical in appearance, Talia was far from a copy of her sister. Of the two, Talia more resembled Santana in looks, partly because of the mischievous glint in her eyes and weary frown she wore so often. Besides _looking_ exactly like Brittany remembered Santana looking at seven years old, Talia seemed to be almost a clone of her mother’s personality at that age too. She was stubborn, a wild child, and had a knack for getting into trouble.

She was also a self-dubbed Pirate Queen. Thus her nickname, Tally Queen.

When she finished with the cake – _Happy Birthday Lexie and Talia!_ with icing-drawn flowers in each corner – Brittany placed the dessert under the glass serving dome to keep any of their animals from reaching it. Then, spur of the moment thinking, she placed it on top of the fridge, just in case. The dancer finished off her daughter’s job of arranging the vegetable platter and set it back in the fridge and went upstairs to make sure Lexie had decided on something to wear.

The little brunette was in Brittany and Santana’s bedroom, twisting and turning in front of the full-length mirror. “Which one’d you pick?” Brittany asked, leaning in the doorframe.

Lexie was wearing a light blue blouse and a short, zebra-print skirt. The orange leggings Kurt and Blaine had sent the girl for her birthday were lying unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. The pink ones were on Lexie’s legs.

“I think these ones, the orange makes me seem too Halloween-y. Pink is good, right?” she asked, making eye contact with Brittany through the mirror.

“The pink is perfect, babe.”

“Good,” the little girl nodded. She took the piano key printed headband off the floor and settled it in place in her hair. “I’m ready to party then.”

Brittany bent down and pulled the little girl into her arms. “That you are, my Lexiephant,” she said, blending her daughter’s name with her favourite animal. All her daughters had unique nicknames.

“When are they getting here?” She asked, pulling away and moving to stand in front of the mirror once more. Her eyes strayed to the orange leggings.

“Quinn said around two o’clock.”

“How long is that from now?” Lexie asked, slipping out of the pink leggings and into the orange ones. She twirled in front of the mirror experimentally, zebra print skirt fanning outward.

Brittany glanced at the clock on the bedside table, “About an hour, maybe a bit longer.”

“I can’t pick!” the little girl shrieked suddenly. “Can I call uncle Kurt and ask him which one I should wear? Please?”

Brittany smiled fondly, “Sure baby. But I want a kiss from the birthday girl first.”

Lexie threw herself at her mother, nearly knocking her over, and kissed each cheek hurriedly. “There.” The seven-year-old darted away before Brittany had time to even realize what had happened. The little brunette stopped in the doorway, however, to call over her shoulder, “Um… about the bathroom. I didn’t do that.” Then she was gone.

“Bathroom?” Brittany wondered aloud, already dreading what she was going to find. She peeked in hers and Santana’s master bath, but didn’t see anything amiss. Then she looked in the girl’s bathroom, situated between the twins’ room and Emma and Maya’s room. “Oh.” Her fingers came up to her mouth, in a gesture that was a mix of horror and amusement.

Ten minutes and one now-clean bathroom later Brittany made her way back downstairs. Walking down the hallway she could hear Santana playing one of their grocery store games with Emma.

“O?”

“Oranges!” came the little girl’s happy giggle.

“P?”

“…Pandas!”

“You can’t buy panda’s at the grocery store, mija.”

“The cereal box has a panda on it.”

“What letter does cereal start with?”

“S.”

“Close, it’s a c that sounds like an s.”

“That’s silly.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“Silly,” Emma recited, “S-i-l-l-Mommy!” She cried happily when Brittany entered the room.

The little girl was sitting on the counter, banging her heels against the cupboard door. There was a small water stain on the shoulder of Emma’s yellow sundress. Santana was standing next to her, washing lettuce and cherry tomatoes for the salad.

“Hello my little Emmie Bear,” the dancer answered, leaning over to plant a kiss on the little blonde girl’s cheek.

Though the twins were Santana’s daughters biologically, Brittany had been the one to give birth to them. She had also given birth to their youngest daughter, Emma. The three-year-old blonde girl was still very much the baby of the house, and after many unsuccessful attempts with her other daughters, Brittany was determined to show Emma the art of dance. Currently, the little girl was enrolled in a beginners jazz class and loving every minute of it.

Their middle child was Maya, a dark haired and dark eyed Asian girl they’d adopted five years earlier when she was still a baby. Of their girls, Maya was probably the most personable. Not afraid of new people or new places, Maya was a happy-go-lucky girl who was constantly making new friends. Brittany thought Maya reminded her of one Rachel Berry but had over the years kept the comparison to herself. Santana and Rachel were friends, but Santana probably wouldn’t be too thrilled at realising the similarities between Maya and the Broadway diva she had feuded with in high school.

“What are you doing, helping Mamá with dinner?”

“Yes! Salad!”

“She keeps eating the bits of tomato,” Santana offered, shaking her head and smiling at Brittany.

Brittany looked at her daughter, a mock-horrified expression on her face, “You keep eating the bits of tomato!”

“I like them!” she squealed as Brittany began tickling her.

“Britt, don’t let her fall off the counter.”

Regretfully, Brittany stopped her tickle attack. “We’ll finish this later,” she whispered.

“I’ll beat you,” Emma whispered back. Louder, she continued, “I like tomato. It tastes like blueberries, only sour-er.”

“B, we need to get our daughter’s taste buds fixed.”

“Let me see your tongue, baby.” Emma stuck her tongue out. “Nope, San, there all there. Nothing wrong with my Emmie Bear’s taste buds. Isn’t that right?”

Emma nodded happily, banging her feet against the cupboard again. “Ohh, lemme see yours!”

Brittany offered her tongue for the little girl, bending down so Emma could have a good look at the bumps on her tongue.

“You two, can we not do this in the kitchen?” Santana huffed, “I’m trying to make dinner, but you are making me gag with all this tongue talk.”

“But you need your tongue for eating,” Emma offered easily.

“I can think of some other things you need your-”

“Stop,” Santana cut off, glaring at Brittany. She nodded towards the little blonde girl, “No innuendos in front of her, please.”

Emma’s blue eyes were wide with curiosity, “What are in-you-end-ohs?”

“Big words Mamá uses to make herself seem smarter.”

Emma shrugged, “Okay.”

Brittany looked around the kitchen, “By the way, where’s Seeker?”

“In the backyard chasing Squid,” Emma answered, referring to a pesky neighbourhood squirrel she had affectionately named for no reason other than, ‘I like the word squid.’

“Why?” Santana asked the elder blonde, not looking up from her work.

“Well, I think the nail polish containers all over the counter are because Maya was putting stickers up on the wall next to the mirror and knocked the basket over. But I think the ripped open bottle of shampoo and chewed toilet paper was his doing. I think someone needs a time-out.”

In addition to Tinkerbelle – not Tank, _Tinkerbelle_ – Brittany and Santana owned two other dogs. Bunny, a Border Collie named for a rabbit shaped white patch on her side, and Seeker, a blonde Cocker Spaniel. He had been named Seeker after Santana’s _insistence_ that they could not name the dog Snitch, like Brittany had wanted. The dancer had been going through another Harry Potter marathon at the time they’d bought him. For some reason, naming their dog Snitch had not seemed appropriate to Santana.

Emma giggled hysterically, “Seeker ate the shampoo? You don’t eat it! You wash with it!”

“We’ll have to give him a bath sometime, won't we? Since he seems so interested in it.”

“Not now, please,” Santana said, flicking a cherry tomato at the dancer, “We have people coming over.”

“Tomorrow!” Emma cheered.

“No sweetie, Lex and Tal are having friends over tomorrow. You and I can do it Monday evening, okay?”

“But the dolphin show comes on, on Mondays,” the little blonde replied, sporting an adorable frown. She was referring to her favourite cartoon at the moment. Her favourite had been a show about talking hair brushes and hammers two weeks ago, but she had moved on.

“We’ll be done before it finishes, don’t worry sweetie. Why don’t you,” she lifted Emma down from the counter, “Go and bring Seeker inside before he hurts that squirrel.”

“It’s Squid’s own fault. He doesn’t run away. He just sits in the tree and makes Seeker go mad.” With that, the little blonde toddled from the kitchen and out the back door.

“I am so grateful,” Santana murmured, “that he doesn’t actually bark at that stupid squirrel. He just sits and growls at it.”

“I don’t think the neighbours would be very happy if he just sat out there for hours and hours and barked.”

Santana nodded, “We’d have to give him back.”

“Oh no,” Brittany growled, picking up the dish towel and whacking Santana on the shoulder with it, “We wouldn’t get rid of him that easily.”

“Brittany, we have too many pets.”

“You could argue we have too many kids, did you want to get rid of one of them too,” the dancer deadpanned.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

“No, I mean I actually hate you,” Santana insisted, cleaning off the counter. Glancing at the clock on the microwave her face pinched, “Shit, I should go get dressed.”

“Language,” Brittany scolded to the brunette’s retreating form.

“Mamá?” Maya asked, poking her head in the kitchen.

“She went upstairs pumpkin, what’s up?”

“Auntie Quinnie called. I answered it. Is that okay? Can I have a cookie?”

“You aren’t supposed to answer the phone, Maya Bee. And you can have a carrot if you want something to eat.”

“But it rang and I didn’t answer it but nobody else answered it and it rang again so I answered it. But what if I want a cookie?”

Brittany picked up the dark haired girl and carried her into the family room, “You missy are getting too heavy to be carried. You still shouldn’t be answering the phone, honey. What did Quinn say? And no cookies. Tal got a vegetable platter ready. You can sneak something off that before everyone gets here. Help me clean up in here.” She dropped Maya on the couch went to turn the movie off – it had ended and the machine was now looping the menu screen over and over again.

Maya slid off the couch and began grabbing dog toys and putting them back in their bowl, “You still carry Emma. Auntie Quinnie said there were no cars. But what if I really, really want a cookie.”

“That one’s a cat toy,” Brittany said lightly, nodding to the stuffed mouse in her daughter’s hands. Maya crouched down and stuffed it under the couch; they didn’t have a bowl for the cat toys. Brittany frowned at her daughter’s cleaning strategy but didn’t comment as she straightened the things on the coffee table and grabbed Maya and Emma’s lunch dishes from earlier. As she walked back to the kitchen she called, “Emma’s only three, you’re five. There were no cars? Oh, you mean there was no traffic? And we’re having cake later, no cookies right now.”

She entered the room again, moving towards the window to open it. Maya was putting the movie back on the shelf with the others and turning off the television. “Will you still carry her when she’s five? Yeah, she said there were no cars so they’d be here sooner. May I please have a cookie?” She batted her dark eyelashes for effect as she changed the approach of her question.

Brittany pulled the blind up and opened the window, letting some fresh spring air into the room. Immediately Mister came bounding into the room and leapt up to sit on the sill. His head swivelled back and forth, scanning for birds through the screen. “No, because when she’s five she’ll be too heavy to carry too. How soon did she say they were getting here? Maya Bee, no cookies. Carrot or nothing.”

“Can I take Mister outside?” the little girl asked, coming over to the window and scooping the cat up unceremoniously into her arms. “Do you promise you won’t carry her longer than you’ll carry me? Auntie Quinnie didn’t say. She started yelling to Jacob about screaming music and hung up before she said. What if I have a cookie _and_ a carrot and we call it even?”

Brittany turned around and leaned against the windowsill, looking down at her daughter. She reached forward and tried to adjust Mister in the girl’s arms, “Don’t hold him around the belly and let his legs dangle like that, darling, it’s not good for his back.” The girl shifted on her feet and readjusted the cat, “That’s better. And only if you put Bunny’s leash on him, I don’t want him attacking another bird. Yes, I promise I won’t carry her longer than I’ll carry you. How long ago did she call? How about you have a carrot and stop badgering me for cookies?”

“What,” Maya started but a bird flew in front of the window. Mister wriggled free and launched himself at the window screen, pawing and yowling at it in attempts to catch the bird.

Maya frowned and started again, “What do I attach the leash to? He doesn’t have a collar. Do you pinkie promise? Not just a ‘I promise long enough to make you stop asking me’ promise? I don’t remember, she called a while ago. But what if I want a cookie.” She frowned harder and added, “I’m a badger? Isn’t that like a big squirrel?”

“No, sweetie, you’re not-”

“Uncle Richard drives a big, black car right?” Talia bellowed from upstairs.

“Yes, honey. Why?” Brittany called back through the house.

“I can see them from my window! They just pulled in!”

Cue the cacophony.

Maya cheered, “Yay! They’re here!” and, abandoning the conversation with her mother, dashed for the front door. Brittany followed, managing to scoop up Seeker into her arms when she spotted him as they moved through the kitchen; trying to avoid him trampling anyone when he would inevitably throw himself down the hall and at the door in an excited frenzy the moment the doorbell rang.

The doorbell did ring. Seeker wiggled and barked for a moment, but did manage to quiet when Brittany shushed him. He was still moving excitedly in her arms, but he wasn’t attempting to break her eardrums like he sometimes did.

When she and Maya made it to the front hall the Waters family was already inside; Quinn and Richard, and their kids Jacob and Jessica. She set Seeker down and he immediately went to investigate the giant plastic bag at Richard’s feet which Brittany suspected contained her daughter’s birthday gifts, if the shiny colours showing through were any indication.

“You guys are a little early,” Brittany commented idly, leaning on the bannister as Maya sat down on the stairs.

“Didn’t Maya tell you we called?” Quinn asked, leaning in to hug the dancer before she removed her jacket.

“She did. About two minutes ago.”

There was a loud bang from upstairs. Tinkerbelle came bounding down the stairs, Lexie right after him – both narrowly avoiding Maya. The massive dog lunged forward to say hello to the newcomers, almost knocking Jacob over, before Lexie got a good hold on his collar and pulled him back.

There was another loud bang and Talia called from somewhere upstairs and out of sight, “I’ll clean that up, don’t worry!”

“Good to see nothing’s changed here,” Richard laughed, hugging Brittany hello.

“Things have totally changed since you’ve been here. We’ve got three more cats.” Santana said, coming down the hall with an Emma on her hip and a Bunny at her side; Bunny was the only calm dog in the house. She stood quietly next to the Latina, her big tail swishing silently.

“It is times like this I feel deeply reassured that there is absolutely no blood linking me to you guys,” Jacob spoke up, toeing off his sneakers and pulling off a baseball cap.

“Good to see you two, little man,” Santana laughed, high fiving him and then shifting Emma so she could better greet Quinn and her husband.

“And how’s my Princess Jessica?” Brittany asked, crouching down on the floor.

“Scared for her life!” Jessica replied loudly. She reached forward and placed her hands on Brittany's shoulders and looked seriously into her eyes, “Jacob is counting down the days until he turns sixteen and can get his drivers licence. I’m going to _die!_ ”

Brittany tried very hard not to laugh. The six-year old’s serious face was just too adorable.

“Fabray,” Santana said, “Your daughter is a drama queen.”

Quinn didn’t bat an eyelash and replied, “Lopez, your daughter can’t dress herself.”

Brittany watched the brunette turn and look at her eldest daughter and take in her ensemble; she’d gone with the pink leggings. Lexie was currently straddling Tinkerbelle, one leg on either side of the dog’s shoulders and pulling back on his collar with all her might to keep him from charging Quinn and her family a second time.

Santana blinked once, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She’s artistic,” she finally offered to the blonde.

“She’s seven.”

“Kurt got the leggings for her.”

“I’m sure that is so not what he intended her outfit to be when he bought them for her.”

“I can hear you!”

* * *

 

Brittany, once everyone had gotten settled, had slipped back upstairs to put on something not covered in cake batter and icing. Santana and Quinn were in the kitchen unpacking the birthday gifts and the appetiser dish Quinn had brought.

The dancer was just about to enter the room when she heard the pair’s conversation.

“…go into photography,” Quinn was saying softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s really good,” Quinn answered fondly. “She took some time off after high school and toured around the whole other half of the world. Europe, Asia, she spent a lot of time in Africa. And she’s really great with the camera. She sent me some of what she took while she was there. They’re amazing. I have one of a giraffe hanging in the study.”

They were talking about Beth, Brittany realised. She held back outside the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt the tender moment. Beth had always been a touchy subject with the other blonde.

“Sent you?”

“Yeah…” she hesitated, “In… in her last letter.”

“And now she wants to go to school for it?”

“Mmm hmm. I don’t think she was ever…” Quinn paused, searching for the right word, “focused, the way we were in school. She knew she didn’t know exactly what she wanted for her life, so she went and searched for it. It took her two years, but she found it.”

Brittany could hear Santana’s confusion, “Two years? Wait, hold old is she now?”

“Santana, she’s twenty,” Quinn said flatly. “She graduated two years ago.”

The brunette groaned, “Because that doesn’t make me feel old.”

“I know, I know. She looked all grown up there, smiling and waving her cap. Made me feel ancient.”

Wait, Brittany thought, Quinn was there?

“Wait…” Santana started, voicing Brittany’s thoughts exactly. “Quinn, you were there? You… you never told me that.”

“Richard and I went,” she answered dismissively. “We left the kids with his parents. It was… really sweet, seeing her like that. A grown up. And she looked great in the gown.”

“And, and she was okay with it?” Santana asked gently. “And Shelby?”

“Mmm hmm, it was Beth’s idea, actually. She was the one who asked me. About a year after that reunion party of Rachel’s Beth wrote to me the first time; I told you that.”

“You did.”

Brittany leaned back against the wall, smiling. She could remember how happy Quinn had been when she’d gotten that first letter. Nervous, but happy. She was glad Quinn was actually getting to see her birth daughter in person now, after so many years.

“She was thirteen. We kept in touch. Shelby was okay with it. We all understood I was just her birth mother, Shelby was her mom. But we kept in touch on and off. I went down and saw her twice. And then she called me and asked me to come to her graduation.”

“I knew you were writing to her, I didn’t realise you had gone to see her.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Quinn insisted. “Before Rachel’s, I hadn’t gone back to Lima once. Beth wasn’t mine, I understood that. It was too hard to think about it, knowing I’d given her up. But after she wrote to me the first time, saying she understood why I…” If Brittany could have seen the other blonde now, she was pretty sure Quinn’s eyes would be damp with tears as she struggled forward, “why I gave her up. It was easier. Knowing she’d forgiven me. And when she asked me to come see her…”

“I’m glad you’re both doing okay then,” Santana said. Brittany figured she was reaching out to gently touch Quinn on the shoulder, judging from the small pause in the conversation.

Brittany could picture Quinn’s face perfectly. Her eyes would close a moment, taking in the comfort from Santana. Then they’d open, she’d take a deep breath, and force herself to continue.

She could hear the smile in Quinn’s voice as she started again, “Richard and I are thinking about taking the kids down for a visit once school ends, they’re never met her. I mean, Jacob isn’t actually related to her the way Jessica is, but, there’d still be a bond.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“She asked to meet them. She’s… she’s well adjusted, I guess you could say.”

“Which is surprising, if she grew up with Corcoran as her mother.”

“Shelby… Shelby isn’t that bad.”

“So you’re going to go visit Lima?”

“Yeah. It gets easier, each time I go.”

Pushing off from the wall, Brittany decided now would be a good time to enter the room. Quinn and Santana had moved past the tender moment and were now just reminiscing. She didn’t want to get caught listening in, so she walked into the room just as Santana was speaking.

“I know what you mean. Britt and I haven’t been down for a while, we should – hey babe.”

“Hey,” Brittany smiled, wrapping her arms around from Santana from behind. She dropped her chin on the Latina’s shoulder and addressed Quinn, “You’re going to go visit Lima again?”

“Thinking about it,” Quinn nodded. “Hey, you guys remember Lauren, right? Zizes?”

“Yeah, why?” Santana asked as Brittany nodded her head.

“She’s moved back.”

“Wasn’t she in Canada…?” Brittany started.

“In Canada, doing wrestling, um, stuff. Yeah. That’s why she wasn’t at Rachel’s reunion. But she’s back in Lima. She bought Breadstix,” Quinn said casually.

Brittany tensed, already able to see how this conversation was going to go.

“She what?” Santana asked slowly.

“She bought it. Then she gutted it and turned it into a gym. It’s called The Stix.”

Uh oh. Brittany squeezed her arms around Santana, trying to keep her calm. Santana had liked Breadstix.

“She. What.”

“Yup.”

Santana’s anger morphed into sadness, “But… but Breadstix…”

“Oh get over it, the food wasn’t even that-”

“Don’t go there, Fabray. How did you find out?”

“Mike told me when I was there for Beth’s graduation.”

“Mike? Mike Chang.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, “How many other Mikes do we know that live in Lima? He’s a teacher at McKinley, remember? He was at the ceremony.”

Santana detangled herself from Brittany and turned to look at her, “You and he talk on the phone all the time, he never told you?”

“Nope.” She and Mike _did_ talk on the phone all the time, but Lauren turning the restaurant into a workout centre had never come up.

Santana looked sullen, “I feel like everything I know is a lie.”

“San,” Brittany scolded.

“You’re being overdramatic,” Quinn added.

“No, I’m not, that place was the best. I mean it. They were legally obligated to-”

“Keep serving you breadsticks, I know.”

“San, it’s not that bad.”

“It was the best place to eat in town.”

Quinn shook her head, “It was arguably the _only_ place to eat in town.”

“They’re food was delicious.”

“It was mediocre at best,” Quinn continued the banter.

Santana looked horrified, “It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“S, the food wasn’t all that great. Their breadsticks especially.”

“Yes, they were! Brittany, tell her they were good.”

Brittany bit her lip and shrugged, “They were okay. For Lima.”

Santana growled.

Quinn looked undeterred, “Name one other person who would agree that the breadsticks at that place were worth ordering extra just so you could take them home and save them for later.”

“I never-”

“You kind of did, San,” Brittany giggled.

“I know you did,” the other blonde insisted. “I _know_ you used to slip them into your bag just so you could eat them later. Which was gross by the way, stuffing food into your purse like that. Give me the name of _someone_ who would agree with you that the food was magnificent.” Santana paused for a moment, thinking. Then she muttered, “… Lord Tubbington.”

Brittany’s eyebrows met her hairline, “What?”

“What? Brittany’s old cat?”

The Latina looked at Brittany sheepishly, “Yeah. I… I used to sneak out the tortellini for him.”

“I can’t believe you.”

Quinn’s face looked like she’d tried to swallow a lemon, “That is disgusting, Santana.”

“He liked it. He hated me-”

“He didn’t hate you,” Brittany insisted.

Santana ignored her and continued, “-but he liked the pasta. So I bribed him any chance I got.”

“Jesus, Santana,” Quinn signed. “Clearly the evidence suggests you have a soft spot for cats.”

“I what?”

“You. Have a soft spot. For cats.”

“She does,” Brittany agreed.

“I do not.”

“You own five,” Quinn insisted, “You have three new cats.”

Santana leaned back on the counter and waved a hand at the dancer, “That is all, B.”

“Then how in the world did she convince you to get three _more_ cats?”

“How am I supposed to argue with her, Q? It’s Britt.”

“True. When have you ever said no to her?”

Brittany bobbed her head, “Good point.”

“Hey, I can say no to you.” She looked at Quinn, “I can’t argue with her. But I can say no to her.”

“S, I’m looking at your life right now, and I’m thinking you really can’t say no to that adorable Brittany-pout she makes.”

“Quinn is right, San.”

Santana was frowning, looking very much like an adult version of Talia when she wasn’t getting her way. “And what is that supposed to mean, you’re looking at my life right now?”Quinn shrugged casually, “

Quinn shrugged casually, “The you right now does not match with the you from high school. I-”

“Damn it, not this argument again,” Santana muttered. Brittany smiled and stayed quiet. She didn’t need to get involved in this, it had come up many times before and Quinn had proven she could handle it all on her own.

“-mean really. You were a snobby, bitchy cheerleader-”

“So were you.”

“-who prided herself on being as brutally honest with people as possible. You loved messing with people. You also hated kids. You refused to babysit for your neighbours – I had to do it for you at one point because they needed someone and you wouldn’t – and you constantly made fun of me and my baby. You called her a lizard baby. On multiple occasions. You and kids didn’t mix.” 

“I-”

“I don’t know about all cats, but you for sure didn’t get along with B’s cats.” She looked at Brittany, who nodded in agreement. “You didn’t even really like dogs for that matter. Didn’t you try to get Britt and I to help you poison your aunt’s poodle?”

“Do you have a point here?”

“I’m just saying, yes, you’ve clearly grown up. But you also can’t say no to her. You’d clearly do anything to make her happy. Because, like I said, past you and present you do not match.”

Brittany thought Quinn’s argument was completely true. No wonder she was such a good lawyer. No one could ever argue with her.

Santana hadn’t given up though. “Says the girl who, after she got pregnant in high school and gave up her baby swore to me she’d never have kids again.”

“I have a daughter, a step son, and a hamster, Santana. You now have five cats, four children, and three dogs. Clearly, you are as whipped as freaking whipped cream.”

Brittany stifled a giggle.

“I am so not whipped.”

“S, if she asked you to buy her the moon, you’d probably say yes.”

“I am not whipped,” Santana insisted.

“Right, sorry, you love her and adore her and would do anything for her. To the rest of the world San, that translates as: whipped.”

Brittany decided now would be a good time to join the conversation again. “Whips. We’ve totally done that,” she deadpanned.

The blush that blossomed on Quinn’s face was so worth seeing. So, so worth it. “Oh, please, no.” She waved her arms in front of her face, “I don’t ever want to hear about your sex life. I’ve told you this. Multiple times. You need to stop.”

“But we _love_ you Quinn,” Brittany sing-songed, “We want you to feel _included_.”

“Trust me, I feel included. Way too included. I felt way too included that one time in sophomore year we had a sleepover and I caught you two going at it in the sleeping bags next to me.”

Santana smirked. “Good times, good times.”

“Really, I’ve heard enough about your sexual escapades to last me a lifetime.”

“We love you too, Q,” Brittany said, skipping over and kissing the shorter blonde on the cheek. She then twirled around the kitchen so she was facing Santana, “I love you too, obviously.” She kissed the brunette’s nose. “And I’m glad you grew up and love me and all those things Quinn said. Our kids rock.”

Santana just shook her head.

Quinn coughed, sounding a lot like she was saying “whipped.”

Laughing, the trio left the kitchen together and discovered Richard sitting on the couch in the next room. Tiger was sitting on the cushion next to him, staring intently.

“I will never get used to this cat,” he laughed, accepting the beer Santana offered him. “The kids are downstairs,” he added, noticing Quinn glancing around the room. “Nice work you’ve done with it,” he added, looking at Santana. “You didn’t have the pool table down there last time I was here.”

“Totally a worthy investment.”

Brittany muttered to Quinn, “Totally not. The kids use it as the base of a fort. They don’t play it with her.”

Tiger gave a low purr in his throat and continued staring at Richard.

“This is really freaking me out.”

“It’s the whole not blinking thing, isn’t it?” Santana smirked.

“He hasn’t blinked since he sat down.”

“That’s Britt’s fault, she used to have staring contests with him when he was a kitten.”

“I was teaching Tiger the value of staying quiet,” Brittany said lightly, scooping up Harp into her lap as the other cat walked by, “He used to howl and howl until we fed him, but he’d stop if I’d just stare at him. Not like you though,” she smiled down at the grey cat in her lap, “You’re almost too quiet and skittish, aren’t you?”

Quinn shook her head, picking the big, black cat up and setting him on the arm of the couch so she could sit down. “I am so glad we only have a hamster.” Tiger continued to sit and stare at the side of Quinn’s head as she tried very hard to ignore him.

“And you have three more now?” Richard asked, looking at Brittany.

“Yeah, a friend was moving away and couldn’t keep them, so we took them.”

“And that one too?” he asked, looking at Harp sitting on Brittany’s lap.

“Yeah, but she’s kind of a wimp, she’s usually hiding. She and Bunny are the only non-trouble makers.”

Some time later, while the four adults were discussing an arrest Santana had made last week, the basement door banged open.

“Aunt Santana, there is too much estrogen in this house,” Jacob said as he shuffled through the room. Shuffled, because Emma was clinging to his leg. “You and Brittany need to pop out a boy sometime soon.”

Quinn made a choking noise into her drink. Brittany and Richard both laughed.

“Oh God,” Santana snorted, “Four is enough. We don’t need anymore.”

Jacob walked further into the room and began shaking his leg, hoping to knock the young girl loose. “Please get off me.”

“Nope.”

“Emmie Bear why are you hanging on his leg?” Brittany asked.

“I’m being a monkey.”

“Ah.”

“Jake,” Quinn asked, “Did you make it all the way up the stairs with her like that.”

“He did!” Jessica squealed, running into the room and catapulting herself onto her brother’s back.

“Ow, damn it Jess, get off.”

“Language,” Brittany scolded as the other three girls followed into the room, though no one else decided to use the teenager as a human jungle gym.

“Seriously. Too many girls.”

“Onward!” Jessica yelled, “Take us outside, my moving tree-man!”

“Oh, are we moving outside?” Santana asked, standing and scooping Emma off the boy’s leg.

“Yeah,” Lexie spoke up, now wearing the orange leggings, “Jessica’s going to show us her routine from her tumbling class.”

“And Jacob and I are going to play baseball,” Talia added.

The two families made their way outside. Jacob and Talia moved off to the far end of the backyard right away and began tossing a baseball back and forth, much to Tinkerbelle’s excitement.

Everyone else spread out around the side of the patio, watching as Jessica began demonstrating her tumbling routine, complete with multiple cartwheels.

“Now that brings back memories,” Santana said, watching the small girl intently.

Quinn nodded, “Oh, I know. When she first told me she wanted to do gymnastics it was a complete flashback. I remember doing all the stuff she does now. Only with pom-poms and a different uniform.”

Brittany smiled as Jessica completed another perfect cartwheel and then a back handspring. “Wow. I remember doing that. But I think I was a little older. She’s so tiny.”

Santana bumped shoulders with her, “What are you talking about? You were practically born doing cartwheels.”

Brittany shook her head, “No. I didn’t start tumbling until I was twelve, just a few years before we joined Cheerios. I was born dancing though.”

“Quinn said you all used to be cheerleaders together,” Richard spoke up as the girls cheered Jessica again.

“She was top of the pyramid,” Brittany smiled.

“She refuses to show me any of her old moves.”

Santana snorted, “Q? You won’t show the man any of your  _moves_?”

“I hate you.”

“Come on Quinn, do something for us!” Brittany encouraged, ignoring Santana’s sexual comment completely.

“God, I haven’t done any of that in years.”

“It’s like riding a bike, Quinn,” the taller blonde continued, “You can’t forget.”

“No way. I’m not falling over in front of my gymnast daughter. You do it if you’re so keen.”

Brittany shrugged, smiled, and sprang forward: step, step, step, cartwheel, splits.

The girls all cheered and clapped even louder.

The dancer stood and made her way back over to where the adults were standing. “See Quinn, not so hard. Now you go.”

“I’m wearing a dress.”

“So?”

“Britt! No, I’m not doing a cartwheel so you all can get some sick pleasure out of seeing me fall on my ass.”

“I’m sure Rich would kiss it better,” Santana laughed. Quinn’s face turned bright read, which made Santana laugh even harder.

The argument was interrupted for a moment as Talia shot past them. “Where are you going, mija?” Santana asked the girl’s retreating form.

“Glass of water!” she yelled without looking.

Brittany looked up, “Don’t slam the – never mind.”

“Jessica is a good girl,” Quinn smirked, “She doesn’t slam the back door.”

“Can it, Fabray. You’ve got some rusty-ass sliding door that hardly slides. We’ve got like, an actual door.”

“She still doesn’t slam it.”

“Shut up and go do a cartwheel.”

“I’m not doing a cartwheel. Let’s see you do one?”

“What, you think I can’t do one? I’m a freaking police officer, I’m totally in shape, little miss lawyer.”

“Are you implying I’m not in shape?”

“Were they always like this?” Richard asked quietly, leaning close to Brittany.

The dancer smiled while the other two continued arguing, “Pretty much.”

 By this point, Lexie had climbed up into the big tree to try and retrieve the kite that had gotten stuck a few days before. “Emma,” she called down, “You should show everyone your little duck dance!”

“Little duck dance?” Quinn asked.

“Something she learned in jazz,” Brittany offered, “Though, it’s not so much jazz at this point as simply teaching them the basics. This was the first big dance number she learned.”

Emma moved into the middle of the lawn, took a deep breath, and proceeded to wiggle all about. She ran around in a big arc, waving her arms in the air, and then came to a stop and began stomping her feet and shaking her little hips. There were some clear elements of proper dance steps, such as the prancing and toe pointing and arm moving, but mostly it looked like a little girl going insane on the grass.

She smiled wide the whole time. By the time she got to the part of her routine where she flapped her arms about – like a duckling – Seeker had come over and begun bouncing around and barking at her feet, until he was chasing her around the yard. Emma squealed in delight.

“Brittany,” Richard said, laughing, “your daughter is adorable.”

“She’s a spaz,” Quinn added, “An adorable, dancing spaz.”

“You guys?” Talia asked loudly from behind them; she had left the kitchen and was now simply hanging on the back door.

“You’re going to break that door and fall if you keep that up,” Santana said idly, “What’s up?”

“Um. Just a… just a question. How much would a cake from the grocery store cost?”

Brittany and Santana both looked over at their daughter. “Why?” Santana asked slowly.

“Well… um… this is one of those times I can say with _confidence_ that I didn’t do it.”

“What. Happened.”

“Well,” Talia began, sounding nervous, “We may not exactly be able to, um, eat it. The cake I mean. It's, well…” she looked over her shoulder and back into the kitchen, “You should probably just come and see. But maybe keep the dogs outside.”

The cake was on the floor. Brittany somehow knew this, just from her daughter’s expression. The cake had somehow ended up on the floor. Why else would the dogs have to stay outside if not because the cake had ended up on the floor?

Everyone followed Talia back into the kitchen. Brittany stood, looking at the scene, trying very hard to fight the smile that wanted to break out onto her face. Santana swore next to her under her breath.

“Well,” Richard eventually said, “Guess she’s right. Grocery store cake it is.”

“Can it be raspberry?” Lexie asked excitedly. “I really like raspberries.”

“Not now, Lex,” Santana shook her head. “Jesus fu-”

Brittany elbowed her.

“-udge, I am going to kill you three.”

Molly was sitting on top of the fridge, licking icing off the cake dome. It had been overturned and was leaning on its side on top of the phonebook.

Mister was sitting on the counter, licking the smear of icing and eating the chunk of cake sitting there. There was a large chunk of red icing from the words on top of his head.

Mango was sitting on the floor, eating the rest of the upturned birthday cake. He looked quite smug and was swishing his tail back and forth.

“How did they even get the dome off?” Quinn asked, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

“San,” Brittany smiled, “We adopted ninja cats.”

“I am going to kill them.”

“We can still eat it,” Maya offered happily, “Now it’s an upside down cake!”

“No, sweetie,” Santana said tensely, “We are not eating it.”

“So we’re just going to stand here and watch them eat it then?”

“Okay,” Brittany said, speaking up, “Why don’t you guys,” she looked at the kids, “all head back outside and keep the dogs entertained while we clean this up. Quinn, can you-”

“Go lock the kitties in the basement? Sure thing,” the smaller blonde smiled as Richard plucked Molly off the fridge. He offered her to Quinn and she scooped up the other two cats in turn and left the room.

“Dustpan in the laundry room?” Richard asked.

Santana nodded and he too left.

“San-” Brittany started, knowing the angry look on her wife’s face.

The dark haired woman closed her eyes, sighed heavily, and then broke out into a wide smile. “Only in our house,” she muttered, “Only in our zoo of a house would this happen.”

“So, you aren’t going to go all Cruella Deville on them then?”

“No,” she laughed, “I’m not. Though I am considering keeping them locked in the basement for the rest of their natural lives.”

“That could work,” Brittany said as she began picking up the chunks of cake on the floor and tossing them into the compost. “We could get them a whole cat house down there. With trees. And scratching posts. And lots of fun toys and stuff.”

“Babe, this is a punishment, not a new sanctuary home for them.”

“Well, I’m just saying.”

Eventually, they got the kitchen all cleaned up and Santana made a mad dash to the grocery store, returning with a raspberry and chocolate cake. The floor was still a little sticky, and the ninja-cats had not been allowed out of the basement for fear of them ruining the second cake, but overall, all was well again.

Everyone was sitting in the family room, the adults talking about Richard’s promotion and the kids taking turns watching Bunny run up and down the hall, fetching a green, stuffed bird.

Brittany was just about to open her mouth and ask Richard a question about his new job when the front door banged open. At the sound, Seeker could be heard running down the stairs and barking excitedly.

“Did somebody order a piñata?” A familiar voice called.

“Kurt,” a second scolded, “you can’t say that if we didn’t actually bring a piñata.”

“Uncle Blaine!” Maya yelled, getting up and throwing herself down the hall, “Uncle Kurt!”


End file.
